


Fishsticks

by Reading Redhead (readingredhead)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Community: comment_fic, Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-25
Updated: 2010-05-25
Packaged: 2017-10-09 17:26:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/89847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readingredhead/pseuds/Reading%20Redhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What the Doctor does the day that Amy leaves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fishsticks

The day Amy leaves, he sets the TARDIS controls to random and waits for the bump, crash, rattling, or explosion that generally follows. This time there's a lot of bumping and rattling, but no actual crashing or exploding, which is good, because he's just starting to remember where things are in this version of the TARDIS and he doesn't want to have to spend six months figuring out where it decided to put the kitchen. Sometimes he swears she moves things around on him, just to keep him on his toes.

He's really not feeling this whole "go out and explore some strange new world" thing, because it makes him think too much about the depressing similarities between his past and his future. How many more new planets will he land on, how many lifeforms will he see, and how many silly humans will he have to meet before he finds the one who'll be there with him for _his_ ending instead of the other way around?

He shakes his head, ignores the doors to the outside. Whatever's there will still be there tomorrow, and he's not sure he wants to be around people today.

So he saunters instead through the door to the rest of the TARDIS, thinking to spend a good day getting lost (and perhaps finally locating the bowling alley).

An hour later he finds himself in the kitchen, having given up on his initial intentions -- and not just because he was failing miserably. On a whim he crosses the tile floor and opens the freezer.

A box falls out. He bends down, picks it up, and examines the label: frozen fishsticks. He's smart enough to know he must be imagining that quick sharp pain that pierces his hearts as he replaces the box and closes the freezer door.

No matter how hard he tries, he knows he can't make fish custard like Amelia could.


End file.
